


From the Dawn of Time

by evilchewbacca



Series: The Lance and the Spear [3]
Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Christian Bible (Old Testament), Cursed (TV 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, F/M, It's one pairing living many different lives and many different stories, Multiple Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:21:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26148595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilchewbacca/pseuds/evilchewbacca
Summary: Their souls have walked the earth since the beginning of humanity, in every life they've become legends. Their tales so fascinating, but with it comes huge loss and great suffering. But they always find the light within each other. Multiple Lives/Reincarnation fic.Chapter 1: First Life (Adam and Eve)Chapter 2: Second Life (Paris and Helen of Troy)Chapter 3: Third/Current Life (The Weeping Monk and Red Spear)
Relationships: Adam/Chava | Eve | Hawwa', Helen of Troy/Paris (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Red Spear | Guinevere/The Weeping Monk | Lancelot (Cursed)
Series: The Lance and the Spear [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1878733
Comments: 15
Kudos: 9





	1. The First Life in Eden

**Author's Note:**

> I thought back to the time when everyone was doing reincarnation/multiple lives fics and this idea just was born out of it. I found a wonderful beta reader today and she looked this over and actually made it read so much better than it did originally. So big thanks [LilaandtheFaeries](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilaandtheFaeries/pseuds/LilaandtheFaeries) <3

He is first called Adam and she Eve. He was born first, cursed to live amongst all the magic of life and nature itself in Paradise alone for years, centuries even. Physically he knows the beautiful greenery and how to move amongst it but his existence is limited. He is living without desire or longing. He knows nothing of failure nor the depths of complexity within the psyche. He knows not why he is, he knows no purpose beyond existing. He is new and just learns to get by on experience.

His actions mark the first of a child ever in this world learning of the world around him. Taking uneasy steps forwards and stumbling back, walking into life blindly. Blue eyes wide open taking in far too much at a time without registering anything at all. The Father created him and stepped back, content to watch his only human creation live amongst his other creations in the Garden of Eden; only ever observing, never interfering or teaching. So Adam raises himself.

Fate began to whisper in his creator's ear about humanity and passion. And legends. Tales so fascinating full of possibility, it was impossible to not captivate the inventive mind of his creator. And so the Father soon grew bored with him; or perhaps, he hoped, loved him so much to reward him with the gift of company and the gift of all these possibilities. Most of all, the possibility of a new legacy. He may have never known longing, but he knew loneliness like no other. For even though this may have been created as paradise, it grew to also become a prison of isolation for Adam. And so the first woman was born, ripped from Adam's very own body, so that he may never be lonely again. With her birth also came the birth of longing, longing of one part to be a whole again.

Eve, all brown-haired and brown-eyed, was uneasy too her first days. Less blind, more sure of herself than Adam but she stumbled still. She followed him, learned what he knew of this world from him. She had the luxury of the gift of company from birth, and from it came a new perspective of the world a new trait born to her… curiosity. And it was infectious. “But why?” She always questioned and no answer ever seemed good enough not to him and not to her. But what was there to do if not to accept the circumstance. Even as they are now, so naked and unknowing, children still, even with centuries under their belt.

The Father never intervened, not on one step of the way. Not even when the Tree of Knowledge and its serpent called to Eve and her curiosity. Sought it out as her weakness to trick her into doing what she was forbidden to do. The serpent finally assessed Adam’s own weakness too, something he had been attempting to do secretly since Adam’s very beginning. He had found Eve and damned her to damn Adam. When he learned of what happened to Eve, how could Adam not have followed? The Father would have him let her be damned alone roaming the Earth banished from Eden and punishing her for her wrongs, but how could he understand Adam? How could he ever understand that one part cannot hate what makes him whole? How could he ever understand the heart of humanity which he sought to create when he had abandoned them long before their exile?

They knew nothing of the world beyond that of the privilege given at the heart of Paradise, the Garden of Eden. And yet now in exile, they know suffering. They feel the Father’s anger and ire in his lack of mercy. They learn about struggle and hunger, likewise, they learn of pain beyond any other. Yet, they adapt and balance this. They now know love, unlike any others that stood together against the worst of the world. They know desire too, seeking out each other’s touch, learning the crooks and curves of each other’s bodies. They learn of the passion long spoken of by Fate to their creator.

Together they bring to existence the great paradox of human life along, where great suffering and great pleasure can coexist in one space. Perhaps they were born to sin. To seek out the forbidden fruit together. For only by learning the great displeasure and suffering they had, could have allowed them to learn the great extent of the best of them as creations.

So with it, they cement the existence of mankind, roaming the Earth, learning through failure, sufferance, and pleasure all at once. Even knowing that they have reached such great happiness and warmth at times, Adam would never forgive what had happened to him, to her, to both of them. With their children and the expansion of the reign of man, as miraculous as it was, they still had birthed great suffering for millennia of generations. How can all of mankind be condemned for the choice of two alone?

In the end, he realized the Creator could be cruel and Fate too, maybe even more for she has made it difficult for Adam to ever reach to the gates of Eden again to teach the Father, in the ways he had never taught Adam, all he has learned all that could be achieved by this experience alone. Only one thought was spared during the rest of his time walking the Earth as Adam: _Fate had conspired against us from the dawn of time._


	2. Second Life in Mycenaean Greece

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s centuries later when they are allowed to walk the Earth together once more. Many things were different from their time spent wandering the Desert together, so many things have multiplied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, big thanks to my wonderful beta reader! Hope you enjoy this chapter. I'm honestly having a lot of fun with this au, I feel an incredible amount of inspiration with it.

It's centuries later when they are allowed to walk the Earth together once more. Many things were different from their time spent wandering the Desert together, so many things have multiplied. From the hobbled makeshift homes they created as Adam and Eve came magnificent cities near the beautiful views of the ocean surrounded by strongly built homes meant to last; great centers and pillars of culture with palatial walls and ceilings made to survive long after the people living inside them. Humanity too has learned different things since their first life, skills, and artistry like no other and greatly improved what Adam and Eve had begun so long ago.

Likewise, the Father is not alone anymore, there is now a pantheon of Gods ruling the Earth. Zeus was chief amongst them. Whether it's that they were a new creation of the Father need not matter to them, for these Gods involved themselves with mankind in ways the Father never had with Adam and Eve. They inspired them, advised them, and toyed with them. They lived in synergy with their worshippers, for their existence without them was futile.

Fate too had followed suit and multiplied. There were three fates now pulling the strings, determining destinies, and endings. It was they who sought to meddle in the first lovers' lives once again. They who pushed the Gods in his path. In this life, he is called Paris.

He is a shepherd, who in his twenty-one years of life had never known the inside of those great structures with high ceilings, at the very least not a time that he could remember. A man with such humble beginnings that didn't quite belong, there was an air of greatness around him and it was that the Fates used to call on Zeus when he was in desperate need of help in settling matters.

"Who are you?" Paris had asked, seeing four ethereal beings on his path. Perhaps unnerved finding them further from anywhere he has ever found any living creature before in the fields.

"We are your Gods." The man amongst the company spoke up, mirth on his lips. "I am Zeus. And she is Hera, and then there is Athena and finally Aphrodite."

The shepherd is not filled with delight as worshippers usually are when surprised with a visit by them and this became a curious thing in the eyes of Zeus. For how could such a small creature as a human not look at them in reverence, for they wielded such power and he none. It was as if he was disillusioned by them all as if he had seen such a great power before and had grown to loathe it truly, such a curious thing for a creature that has lived too little to experience as much. And yet the shepherd words reflected it as well. "I find it hard to believe the Gods would ever choose to walk within these fields. There is nothing here for miles, no shrines here devoted to them. What business could they ever have here?" He asked, voice stern.

"To find you, Paris..." he began to assess the shepherd with his stormy eyes, so telling of the great power the God wielded, and brow furrowed showing his effort in his attempts to discover something, anything, about the man. When he could discover nothing, he shook his head and continued on. "We have an urgent matter to settle amongst us and we need your help and only yours."

"I don't understand –" Paris began.

" – You're not meant to. But if you help us settle this, the Goddess whose plight you favor shall reward you." He tries to entice the shepherd with the offer of a gift from the Gods, and looked pointedly at the Goddesses willing their cooperation. "We vow as much."

Around Zeus, the triad began to nod in agreement. And who was Paris to deny any gift, for he had received so little before? He had known nothing outside his small wooden home and his animals and his fields. "What do you need me to do?"

"All you need to do is take this and hand it to the Goddess you choose," is all that Zeus says as he hands him a golden apple, glimmering under the sun. "No more, no less. That is all."

Paris could only look at the apple in his hand, there was no difference in the feel of this apple to any other, aside from the obvious distinction in color. Confusion clear in his blue eyes, he began to question, "An apple? What use would an apple have to the Gods? Surely, there must be plenty more to share amongst you all."

"It is not the apple itself that is at the center of the dispute, but what it represents…" Zeus explains, but something in the gleam of his eyes told the shepherd that the God was amused. "It is a prize of beauty given to the fairest amongst them. And you, Paris, were selected to choose the Fairest of the Goddesses."

"I do little more than herd my animals. What could my opinion matter?" Paris couldn't help but question, though he felt a tinge of pride that his word should mean anything at all to them.

"It does not matter." Zeus responds "It's just a game. And you will have a prize no matter whom you choose. So choose." He smiles at this, as someone who loves to exercise his control on others. Though Paris does not fault him for it, for he too can't help but feel love for his power in such a small spat between Gods. "Hera, go." He calls to the first Goddess and she moves closer at his command.

"Give me the apple, Paris, and I'll make you the most powerful man alive." She attempts to persuade him. And he must admit for one with such a humbled life a dream of a legacy beyond herding was far from his reach. This prize was filled with promise.

Beside him, another Goddess scoffs, and at this Zeus silences her, calling her Athena. She looks to Zeus, her irritation clear just before she begins her own attempt. She walks closer to Paris and moves in a circle around him as if assessing his greatest need. "Choose me, Paris. With me by your side, you will be the most admired man in this world." Paris had to admit she had assessed him well, for the life he led left him so far from influencing others, no matter how great his ideas may be. This too held great promise.

A hand reaches for his shoulder from behind, it belongs to a less ferocious woman. Aphrodite calls to him "You know me, I have paid you many visits in your dreams".

And he does know her, for while she may not have been represented in his dreams, more like his hauntings. He always found company in brown eyes and brown hair. Passion filling his heart unlike any other before. He knew little of this nonexistent woman of his dreams but it was fairly obvious that the Goddess had played her hand in his infatuation with a fantasy. "I… do. You are Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love."

At being recognized Aphrodite begins to smile as if she found herself winning already in some way. She moves far too close to him, noses almost touching. "Grant me the apple and I'll give you her. The most beautiful woman in the world."

"Who is she?" He asks, heart racing, thinking back to passionate dreams of sheets, splayed legs, and pleasure like no other.

"Choose me and you'll see her soon." The Goddess promises and now satisfied with her case backs away.

Zeus calls his attention once more, "Time to decide. Who will it be?"

Paris finds it far too difficult to be logical about this as great as Hera and Athena's promises were, his heart beats so rapidly in his chest. It refused to allow him to forget her, the woman of his dreams. His golden apple. So as the seconds were counting down, he let the emotions take control and decide, "Aphrodite… Aphrodite, I choose you."

And with that the other Goddesses let their anger be known, screaming and causing the world around him fall to chaos. He began to feel faint and awoke the next day to a new world. He is found and reclaimed as Alexander, the lost son of King Priam and Queen Hecuba of the city of Troy. He was washed and bathed and recognized amongst the people, admired for his strength and story. Perhaps he hadn't needed the gifts of Hera and Athena. Perhaps he was born a spectacle all of his own.

He has a sister now, Cassandra, who stares at him and weeps, "Why have you come back? Why have you returned? Don't you know what you have done? And what you will do?" He doesn't understand her nor her nonsensical wails and protests against his presence, but he chooses to pay her no mind as no one else ever seemed to either.

He lives a magnificent privileged life now and he learns to wield his new power quickly. Within a year, he is deemed worthy of becoming an ambassador, remaining for a month within the walls of the separate kingdom of Sparta. He hears great praise of Sparta's powerful ranks and he hears whispers of the Queen's great beauty. Though he doesn't care for either, he was not a man of war and Aphrodite had promised him the girl that lived in his fantasies. What effect could Sparta really have on him and his life? _None_ , was his answer, _none at all_.

Oh, how wrong his assumption was. A night after spending the last two days with King Meneleas and the other diplomats, they celebrate the Miracle of Paris and his return to his rightful place as a Prince of Troy, all was well until she walked in. Both the woman of his dreams and the Queen of Sparta were one. His Helen of Sparta was already living a married life with someone else. And so his great golden apple was forbidden to him.

And the pain he felt because it was unlike anything else. He knew he dreamt of her often, but now there was a pain in his ribs at the mere sight of her - aching for her. He knew it was more than just the passion between the sheets that haunted him. No, it was a greater longing, a yearning even. As if she were a lost part of him waiting to reunite. How cruel could Aphrodite be when he had chosen her as she had asked?

Their eyes find each other every time they are in a room together for the next six days. He tries to respect her distance, truly he does. But it is as if Aphrodite is playing her tricks on them both every minute of every day because they find each other far too often to be mere coincidence. On the seventh day, she cares no longer of any of it and walks with him. Her curiosity leading her, it was as if defined her and made her all the more endearing. As if such a characteristic in her was something he had known for years.

They talk endlessly of their beginnings and she becomes all the more enthralling in his eyes. But then the talks turn into desires and other matters of the heart. And his glances can't be helped, he knows this. But to his surprise, the want, no, the need to be whole together burns within her too. And they find each other in the night and relive his most impossible fantasy. Aphrodite is true to her word.

But he cannot let her go. Simply can't leave Sparta without her. So they choose to run. They run away to Troy together in the middle of the night. Quickly and giddy, eager to choose this over a life of misery without the other. But just as true to Aphrodite's word, so was the silent promise and warning in Hera and Athena's anger that Paris had failed to notice and heed. War soon breaks out and all is lost. Helen of Sparta or Helen of Troy, the woman that launched a thousand ships. They became legends once more just as the Father longed to see from a time before civilization, however, wrought with tragedy still. A punishment from the Creator and Father of All from transgressions in a past life was still in action centuries later. How cruel. How unfair.

And though he retained memorable achievements, such as that of killing an almost all invulnerable man. The blood falling from the ends of his light brown hair, his eyes looking up at the blue sky as the blue in his own eyes begin to lose their light. He tries to bring up thoughts of Helen and he thinks about her life after this. The grief she must feel. And being cursed to return to the life she loathed with the King who ordered the death of Paris and his city.

His last dying thought as he lay above other dead and dying bodies will haunt the Earth for many millennia: _The fates. They have played with us and toyed with us. They have made us suffer for love._ The thought joins another that whispers through the wind in the same vein: _Fate has conspired against us from the dawn of time._


	3. Current Life in Sixth Century Britannia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is another many millennia before they are allowed to meet each other again. Their new paths are marked by the tragedy that should have long been left behind with Paris' last breath and Helen’s return to a new prison of her own making. And yet they remember none of it, she is reborn to this world as Guinevere and he as Lancelot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again this was beta read and edited by my wonderful beta reader, who let me slack and disappear for days. Thank you so much, your kindness and your time is very much appreciated!!
> 
> I think I'm gonna end this fic here, I have ideas of where I can pick it up and end this life - but if people are interested in seeing the rest of what I imagine potentially happening, I'll definitely attempt at finishing this lifetime. I have ideas potentially for two more lifetimes in addition. But also holding out in case we get word if the show was renewed or not to see if I can seek out inspiration within show.

It is another many millennia before they are allowed to meet each other again. Their new paths are marked by the tragedy that should have long been left behind with Paris' last breath and Helen’s return to a new prison of her own making. And yet they remember none of it, she is reborn to this world as Guinevere and he as Lancelot.

Yet neither use these names for long before they are pushed into new titles by those who adopted them, the Red Spear and the Weeping Monk. With these titles, they both shed their personhood. Their lives crafted beyond their control to devoting themselves to invisible scars they’ve no memory of receiving.

In this life she carries heaviness from her time in the Trojan War and begins to reflect the violence that she had witnessed inflicted on many. However, she is not a prisoner of sorrow, instead from the haunt of the past, she is born to knowledge of warfare and successful strategy as only the children and wards of the Ice King could, as if the war she witnessed end had weighed on her mind and ingrained itself to her immortal soul till the end of time, learning and refusing to lose her world once more. 

She is now distant and cold as many can be after a great love is torn away from them so violently and so early. She wishes for nothing but holds close and dear everything she has in this new life, that is until they all reject her and her invisible scars bleed through as if such an ancient wound was still fresh. She is cast out and alone for some time in the wilderness of Scandinavia. A controlled anger takes over her being, and she is lost to all but the wounds of Helen’s past. Her people, led by Dof and Daya, find her again sometime later seeking her leadership and she finds some new purpose for her emotions.

He too is brought up reflecting the sins of the past. He begins life on the run in the country of Frankia, for he was born part of the Fey Folk. His people, particularly known as the Ash Folk, had long been victims of persecution and inevitable extinction by the hand of the Red Paladin sect of the church. No matter how far they ran, the outcome was the same as that of Troy. Only this time he was left to survive where all others have perished.

He is pushed back into worship of the Creator by the head of Father Carden who promises him salvation and so he lives a life of constant search for dark and bloody penance. He grows far too good at war, his fighting coming far too easily for a boy of nine. And yet it’s as if he had practiced killing long before learning to breathe or stand. He became essential to Carden’s cause after some time, though truly meaning little more to Carden than a pet to order and kick.

They are pushed to hell and back and they are changed. Fate pulling both to land in Britannia at around the same time, however, on different missions, he on one of absolution and she for vengeance. Neither heart is pure. And both ever so near to reaching their breaking points. 

They become allies with the Fey under different circumstances and they too make the same enemies in this foreign country wrought with power struggle. Likewise, they aren’t afforded the luxury of meeting in a time of calm and peace. Rather they meet in the midst of a battle she and Arthur lead against another group of Cumber’s raiders.

The Red Spear, as she’s now known by all, is disarmed and surrounded, utterly beaten and bloodied. One of the biggest raiders poised to kill with a war axe raised high above him, ready to deliver her to Hel. And while she was more than prepared for it, to meet her Gods, to rise and greet them in Valhalla. She couldn’t help but hesitate in her resolve to receive the glory and praise from the gods as fear began to fill her with a feeling that there was something greater that she was missing from life. And just as he began the motion of bringing down the axe to chop her to bits, a sword pierced his chest straight through the heart. Her would-be executioner fell, eyes bulging wide and his axe falling behind him.

The surprise on her face was evident to her rescuer even from where he was high on a hill. Lancelot stands keeping his stance bow at his side, readying a bow almost all too inhumanly quick, when he stills in place when her eyes look up in effort to seek out whoever may have saved her. Their eyes find each other in the gloom of battle.

And though it may have been no more than two seconds, it felt like a long pause in time. The battle around them falling silent on their ears. Only the pounding of two hearts could be heard in her ears, deafeningly loud. And Lancelot felt himself warm as blood rushed within him with such force. As if two separate bodies could call to one another from across a battle. 

Far too quickly, the connection breaks and she tears her gaze away when Arthur is at her side offering his arm and pulling her quick to her feet, his voice loud and reassuring, “We can still defeat them. The tide will turn today.” And she could only find herself believing her ally. 

Above them, almost as soon as Lancelot was freed from whatever held him and had frozen the world around him, he moved quickly with encouragement from the boy, Squirrel. Releasing more arrows aimed with such accuracy, it became an immediate death to those opposing the boy’s friends. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

When they won, the Red Spear walked away slowly, breathing heavily toward Pym who was working to hold up Kaze. All thoughts in her mind working to understand how this near death experience affected her and just trying to process it all. He, however, stood tall as Arthur, his once enemy, approached him. Confusion displayed so clearly on his face as his eyes flitted between Lancelot and Squirrel, “You… helped us? Why?”

Before Lancelot could even speak, Squirrel’s voice quickly rang out, “Because he’s one of us! He’ll help us fight.” The boy was pleading with Arthur in favor of Lancelot with such urgency. “... please, Arthur.”

Arthur looked to Squirrel and back to Lancelot. He was trying to assess the situation before him. He finally turned to Squirrel, “Are you sure we can trust him?”. All the boy could do was nod in response. “Alright. I must discuss this with the Fey, I’ll let you know what we decide once we come to agreement.” Arthur’s brow was furrowed as he gave one last glance to Lancelot, his distrust of the monk could be felt, before walking away. Lancelot did not consider the matter over and he was sure Arthur felt the same.

All Fey looked to him with distrust and he knew then that where the boy would easily be welcomed, he would not. And so he decides he must prepare Squirrel for their eventual parting, he decides to spend his moments with the boy. He would not let his mind dwell on the momentary enchantment that seemed to have fallen upon him and the woman earlier in battle when their eyes found each others. He, instead, chose to dismiss it as the effort of cantering miles to reach the battle in time and moving quickly to save his potential allies. And with that he thought he quieted all thoughts on the matter. And for the rest of the day the boy dragged Lancelot around to the encampments of the Fey and their allied Danes.   
  


———————————————————————————————————

As the sky fell to darkness Lancelot found himself sitting near a fire with Squirrel, as the boy had followed him. He had started this fire further away from the Fey encampments and nearer but still distant to the foreign raiders. And while a large number of both the Fey and Dane raiders were mixed together, he and Squirrel were sat in the part that was decidedly only raiders - and they too stared after him warily. This all made it more apparent that he must broach the topic with the boy that has stuck to his side for the last couple of months.

“Squirrel,” he began his voice raspy from disuse as he had no need to speak too much as the boy could easily fill the air with his own words, “I think our journey together has come to its end.” He looked to Squirrel and he noted how the boy’s spine seemed to go rigid and his face turned to look back at Lancelot.

“NO.” Squirrel spoke strongly and with such finality as if the conversation ended there, defiance filling his wide eyes.

“There is no argument here, Squirrel. It’s quite simple. You are welcomed here and I am not. I must leave before -”

The boy interrupts him, refusing to hear Lancelot’s reasoning. “-Then I will go with you.” 

“You are safe here, loved even. I will not take you away from safety. And I most certainly will not take you away from your friends. After all, it’s what I’ve worked towards for months. You have all this here and I just do not.” Lancelot speaks plainly to get through to the boy. To make him see sense and see it all as clearly as he does.

And the boy understands, he must, for he sits there silent as seconds turn to minutes. And Lancelot can only wait, wait for his final judgement from the boy who reminded him of who he used to be so long ago. “Then we will work to gain that for you here too.” Squirrel eyes him with a look that Lancelot cannot help but feel that is makes him seem much wiser and in some sense older than himself. And he can’t help but admire the young boy and envy him all the same.

“And how would we do that?” Lancelot asked, giving in to the boy's whims.

“First, you must make a friend.” The boy began to list. “And don’t give me that look Lancelot, but you must not force a friendship. You must go find someone, then introduce yourself and learn their name. And talk to them, but bring none of your angst. You can’t overwhelm them. It will all grow from there.”

“Oh must I? And who would be the perfect candidate?” Lancelot chuckled, as he knew there would be no one here who would ever wish to take up such bait, at least not from him.

The boy took a second to think before he let a little of his sorrow show, “Nimue would have been perfect. She was my favorite… but she’s not here now.” Squirrel went to wipe away a tear that escaped his attempt at a brave facade. “Pym… yeah, Pym. She’d be a start. And then Arthur. They’d be the best start. Especially once you befriend Arthur every -” he was interrupted before he could finish.

“In battle, you saved my life, Monk.” A voice spoke that he had never heard before. He turned to find that the owner of the voice had walked to his other side standing tall. She wasn’t facing him at all, rather she was looking in the distance to the big number of Fey and Danes gathered together, talking and celebrating. He didn’t turn to look back at Squirrel as the boy had fallen silent, probably surprised by the interruption or by the fact that anyone at all would seek out Lancelot to speak with.

He can’t help but hesitate to speak, he’d never been sought out or spoken to outside of paladin matters and whatever Squirrel sought to talk, but truly complain, to him about. “It’s what I came here to do.” He can’t help but feel awkward and decides to better his answer and add, “To help you all.”

From the side view of her face the short distance away from where he sat, the flames lit up enough to let him see the small twist at the corner of her lips. Only for a slight moment, but he couldn’t help but feel somehow rewarded for his effort to speak to her. The warmth he felt from battle seeping back to him, though only slight this time.

“It’s quite funny.” She began again, only this time he could hear her accent so clearly, he noted while a little rough as if she too didn’t speak unless it was necessary, it sounded pleasant to his ears. “This is the second time I’ve been saved in these lands…” She turned to him then, her eyes finding his. “By an arrow no less. It’s strange.”

And he is transfixed, time once again freezing around him and her, only this time he was free to move and speak. He was no longer a prisoner. “I suppose it is.”

“It is. You see, I’ve never needed to be saved ever in my life. And since I’ve been here in quite a short time, it has happened twice.” She finishes explaining and chooses to pause, her eyes searching for something. “You saved my life and so a debt is owed. Ask whatever you wish of me and you shall have it.”

“I…” Speechless, Lancelot can’t help but balk at this. “I don’t want anything, truly.”

She only takes a step closer, her brow furrowed showing her effort in examining him. “You must want something. Everyone always needs something. I will attain whatever it is. I vow it.”

“There’s no -” He begins before he is hit on his side by Squirrel and suddenly he becomes all too aware of the fact that he isn’t alone with her.

The boy harshly whispers at his side, “ask her to stay.”

He decides to do as the boy asks though Lancelot truly did not believe it possible. “I’d like for you to ask the Fey to let me stay.” The captain only raises a brow, questioning. “The Fey will not allow me to stay, they believe me dangerous, I’m surprised I’m not under guard.”

At this her lips begin to pull upward again but not quite a smile yet, as if she were fighting it with all her might, “Who says you’re not?”

Lancelot processes what she says, brow furrowed in confusion. He begins to look around wildly recalculating what he missed. And he finds Dane raiders sitting strategically around the camp much closer than him and keeping a general watch facing his and Squirrel’s general direction. He hadn’t noticed once his effort was decidedly focused on saying goodbye to the boy. “You?”

“Me.” She seems almost sheepish. “You’re right about the Fey not trusting you. Arthur had ordered you watched the second he left you but I saw the way they looked at you. He ordered you guarded for their safety but I saw then and now that in some ways keeping your safety is much more pertinent at this time and volunteered myself and my people.”

He can’t help but look at her in awe in her consideration for his life and a world of gratefulness for her actions. Perhaps it was that it was so obvious on his face and his usual facade failed him, leading her to attempt to explain herself. “I understand what it’s like to be hated by your own people…” she spoke slowly, “and you saved my life. It was the least I could do.”

“Thank you.”

She merely nods in acknowledgement, she fixes her posture before continuing determined. “Shelter is far too little to be a fair trade for life. And for my own no less.”

“It’s all I want. Consider the debt paid with this favor.” Is all he could find it in himself to say.

“And you shall get it, but I will not consider such a debt paid.” She concedes, “ask this of me fine, but I shall determine when the debt is paid, till then you shall ask me for whatever else you may wish and I shall do my best to provide it.”

“I don’t think I shall ever ask for so much.” He couldn’t help but feel a turn of excitement, both at the prospect of remaining here and at the ability to converse so well with someone who was not Father Carden or Squirrel. The conversation bounced from one to the other as if a flame in a dance, it felt intoxicatingly brilliant.

“Then you’ll have to keep asking and I shall keep giving until the debt is paid.” There is a light in her eyes, he can’t help but feel that she enjoys this too.

Perhaps that is why he feels so giddy enough to speak his mind without thinking too much and the next words leave him, “Careful, you keep giving and giving and one day I might just ask for your soul.” The words leave him and he processes not a second after, he can’t help but feel embarrassed and worried for it was far too familiar a thing to say to someone he knew nothing of outside of this conversation.

She too paused at this. Just staring at him for forever it seemed, before she tilted her head to one side and asked, “Is that what you want, Monk? My soul?”

The fire danced on her face. Her eyes, in particular, seemed to be glowing with flecks of gold in the brown iris - it was alluring in a way he never knew to describe before. He felt his body go slack from the weight of her words. He can’t help but gulp in order to gather his bearings and rip himself from a strange world of feelings he was never taught to handle, he felt overwhelmed. “No… the shelter and protection is enough.”

“Then shelter and protection you shall have.” She takes a second to examine his face once more, before turning to walk away.

He was about to settle in his seat on the floor again once more after being surprised by her, when he couldn’t help but bolt right up and ask loudly so she could hear from the distance she had walked to. “Why? How do you know you can trust me? You must have heard?”

She pauses where she is. And turns around completely to face him. “I did. I know you hurt people. But I’ve no room to judge you, I’ve hurt enough people myself. You’ve hurt the boy, yes?” At this he nods, ashamed. “I’ve heard he stands by your side anyway, is this true?” Again, he nods. And he feels Squirrel stand too. “You’ve never hurt me so how can I question the judgement of someone you’ve hurt. And you have given me no reason not to trust you, in fact, I do recall you saved my life. Now, was that all?” 

After pausing for a second, he saw her move to turn around once more. “Lancelot.” She looks back to him, her eyes seeking his for some explanation. “That’s my name. Lancelot.” She nods but before she can turn again, he feels an itch to ask to know the same of hers. “Red Spear? That’s no true name at all.”

“It’s a name that inspires great fear in my enemies.” She challenges, awaiting the point.

He can’t help but smile. “That all may be true. But not the one you were born to.” At this he can’t help but feel the glare from two pairs of eyes. When he looked to Squirrel in particular, the silent question of what he thought he was doing evident in his mannerisms. And yet, the boy’s concern would not quiet him. “What is it?”

“Red Spear. I may have had another name once but this is all anyone will ever know.” She states before turning around.

And yet his voice rings out one last time softly, “I’d like to know the name of the woman helping me.”

She doesn’t make a move, not to turn around nor to walk away. She takes far too long standing there and he’s decided that she probably won’t answer and begins to move to return to his seat by the fire. “Guinevere.” He is startled by her late response and freezes, Squirrel once again caught up to his side. She turns back slightly, not completely to return to converse further with him, but her eyes seek his once more as if it had become a habit in so little time. “Small price to pay for my life being saved.”

She only nods to him once before walking away and he can’t help but stare after her. That is until he feels himself being smacked in the gut with as much force as Squirrel can muster. “What were you doing?? You almost ruined your one chance to stay!” He began to complain as they sat down, he couldn’t help but chuckle, as this was so common in his trouble with the boy on their travels.

He can’t help but feel as though adrenaline raced through every bit of him. After the conversation, warmth filling him more and more by the second. “I was doing what you asked. I was making a friend.” 

“That’s not how you make a friend! I don’t know what that was. But I don’t make friends that way. Sometimes I think you’re a real lost cause without me Lance-” The boy continues on.

However, Lancelot is lost to it as before him he hadn’t noticed a stray apple just before the fire and just in front of where he sat until then. There was gleam to red apple just as there had been to Guinevere’s eyes and it called to him almost in a siren song. It seemed he had no choice but to reach for it. Only once in his grasp did he realize the golden gleam didn’t fade not even further away from the apple, though it was somehow beautifully red all the same, a perfect apple in that sense. He didn’t think such a thing could exist, it made it rarer and made the fruit seem forbidden somehow. But he felt his hunger rise and he took his first bite. 

And with it a wind like no other seemed to blow out of nowhere hitting him and Squirrel head on with such strength and quickly moving past him. And still he’d missed the end of a whisper, _they had made us suffer for love_ , joined by another, _fate has conspired against us from the dawn of time._ For what must come to pass, shall, and then so too will a third whisper join them in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I clearly have a thing for the cursed versions of Lancelot and Guinevere finding out each other's names for the first time lol. I've thought of like ten potential scenarios already!
> 
> If anyone has fic prompt ideas please send me an ask on tumblr @ theredspear.tumblr.com anonymous to add to my "The Lance and The Spear" fic series. Or even just a random prompt! 
> 
> \- you don't need a tumblr to send anonymous asks I don't think.

**Author's Note:**

> Will actively be working on the next chapters in the next week (:


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